


Imperfections

by orphan_account



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Fake Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marshall would go to the brink of "death" to make Gumball admit they shared a special relationship. It was a shame Gumball reacted more violently than Marshall expected. ("Bad Little Boy" rewritten with MarBall.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperfections

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically "Bad Little Boy" rewritten with all the FioLee instances changed into MarBall. It was challenging replacing Fionna with Gumball while still using the episode's main plot. To be honest, I don't like Marshall Lee; I love Fionna and Gumball much more, but I can't resist trying to write a little MarBall.

"Hi-yah! Hi-yah!" Fionna swung her arms about, the axes heavy in her hands. Their sharp blades caught the light and glinted. Fionna danced forward a few steps and tossed one ax. It shot, whistling as it flew, to the spot where BMO sat with an apple balanced on its top. BMO tensed as the ax slammed into the wood beam behind it, and the apple split neatly in half. The pieces fell at BMO's sides, and it looked up with surprise. It then beamed approvingly at Fionna.

"Ooh, nice throw," said Cake, nodding.

Fionna sighed and stood straight. "Thanks. I gotta do _something_ today."

"What about Gumball's mission we went on this morning?" Cake waved her paw teasingly. "Is delivering daisy chains to the Fluffy People not enough for you?"

"Yeah…." Fionna uncomfortably averted her gaze. "Sometimes Gumball's missions can be so… _lame._ "

As if speaking against Gumball bothered her and she wished to hide that it did so, Fionna growled and crouched in anticipation. She drew her arm back, feeling her muscles tighten, and clenched her fingers more tightly around the handle of the ax. In one swift move, she shifted her weight forward, slung her arm, unfurled her fingers, and let the ax hurtle through the air. She watched it flip over and over, its rusted blade glinting, until a movement at the doorway caught her attention.

"Hello, everyone!" Gumball said cheerfully. Fionna slapped her hands over her mouth as Gumball stepped over the threshold, entirely oblivious. He grinned, and just as he began to speak, the ax shot into the door frame with a _crack._ Splinters of wood sprayed from the impact, as did several strands of pink hair.

Fionna let her hand slide from her chin and pressed her palm against her chest. Her heart pounded in her throat. She laughed, relief making the giggles breathy.

Gumball looked up, craning his neck. Upon noticing the handle of the ax, he frowned thoughtfully. A sudden realization struck him, and he reached up to gingerly touch his upturned bangs.

"Oh, my," he said. "Looks like you almost skronked up my domepiece."

Exceedingly grateful that only his bangs had been split, Gumball licked his thumb and forefinger and smoothed his torn bangs into their proper position. He smiled, and Fionna felt her heart throb somewhat faster.

"Boy, have I got a treat for you," Gumball said. He held out his hands, and for the first time Fionna noticed that he clutched a large silver tray. A miniature mountain of fresh cream puffs stacked high on the platter made Fionna and Cake skip closer to inhale the sugary scent. Fionna vaguely wondered if the overpowering sweet smell was the cream puffs, or Gumball himself.

"Cream puffs," Gumball said, as if they did not already know. "The Fluffy People and I just finished baking them to show our appreciation for the mission you completed. Try one."

Gumball encouragingly held the tray closer to Fionna. Fionna instinctively edged back, holding the breath. The sugary scent certainly was overwhelming. She raised her hands in a placating gesture.

"Umm…" Fionna considered her choices, and decided Gumball's frown would be less painful than swallowing so much _sugar._ She smiled uneasily at Gumball. "I'd love to, but… maybe later."

_Cree-aa-kk._

A sound unlike any other made Fionna draw up her shoulders in surprise. She immediately looked up, toward the source of the eerie noise. She glanced at Cake, whose tail had inflated and looked something like a bottle-brush. Gumball too gazed quizzically at the roof.

"What was that?"

Fionna turned to peer out the window. As she did, a sharp whipping sound shot behind her. She spun around and saw nothing but Gumball, who now held an entirely empty silver tray. He saw Fionna's stunned expression, and looked down. His eyes widened.

"What… oh. Aw." He stared at his reflection in the empty tray, as though he believed that somehow the cream puffs would reappear.

Fionna nodded at the ceiling, her blonde bangs swishing. "Something's on the roof. Let's go."

Cake adamantly folded her arms over her chest, her brown nose crinkling. "I ain't going up there. It's _wet_."

Fionna turned to Gumball, her soft eyes silently asking for help in convincing Cake. Gumball glanced at the ceiling doubtfully, chewing on his lower lip.

"Well…" he said finally. "It _is_ wet."

Fionna's eyebrows lowered in a dramatic scowl, and Gumball felt his toes curl inside his expensive Oxfords.

* * *

Fionna's hands slid over the slick ladder. Her palms felt clammy from the cold, or perhaps from nervousness. Gumball's weight pressing against her back was not nearly so great as she had expected. His thin arms wrapped tightly around her neck, and whenever Fionna lost her grip and slipped, Gumball would tighten his arms around her shoulders and shiver.

Fat raindrops pattered against the fabric of Gumball's parasol. The pink ribbon surrounding its brim was soaked and sagging, and rain continuously poured from the edges. Mist swirled before Gumball's and Fionna's eyes, and tiny droplets of rain caught in their lashes. Gumball tentatively unwound one arm from about Fionna's neck to rub at his eye.

Fionna paused, dug her fingers into a chink for support, and blew a sticky strand of her from her forehead. Her shirt stuck to her body, and her skirt clung to her in a way that certainly was not flattering. Beneath Fionna's hood, Cake trembled. Her claws pricked Fionna's scalp.

With renewed strength, Fionna continued her climb, gripping the slippery rungs of the ladder. She lifted her leg, pressing down on the rung with her foot. The sole of her shoe squeaked against the metal. She climbed one rung, then another, carefully, and finally peeked above the side of the tree house.

A familiar figure bobbed up and down on the gentle puffs of wind. He tossed his head back, revealing his soft black eyes. Raising one eyebrow, he smiled flirtatiously.

"Oh… hey, Gumball." His voice smoothed through the rushing of rain. He gazed at Gumball through the tangled clumps of hair that had been plastered to his face from the rivulets of water. His fangs glinted in the faint light.

"Marshall Lee," Gumball said in admonishment, though the note of pleasure in his voice was unmistakable. Fionna shifted beneath Gumball, scowling.

"He-llo?"

"Oh!" Marshall Lee innocently pressed his fingers to his pale lips and tipped back, still floating carelessly. "Forgive me. Good _evening_ , Fi-Fi!"

He leaned over in a dramatic bow, his fingertips scraping against the rooftop. When he bobbed upright, he wrapped one hand around the fretboard of the electric guitar that was slung over his middle. He raised his free hand, and both Fionna and Gumball were startled to see that he cupped a slightly soggy cream puff in his palm.

He brought the cream puff to his mouth, entirely ignoring Fionna and Gumball. He pressed the tips of his fangs into the spongy cake, and before the eyes of his audience began to suck the rich shade of pink from the cream puff's filling. When the filling was reduced to a greasy layer of gray, Marshall grinned, and unexpectedly hurled the cream puff toward Fionna.

"Ack!" Fionna cringed as the soaked cream puff slapped against her cheek. The cold filling smeared over her face, pale frosting catching in her lashes and loose bangs. Cake yelped and burrowed more deeply into Fionna's hair beneath her hood.

"What d'ya think you're doing, you jerk?" Fionna scrubbed at her cheek until what little skin she uncovered glowed an angry red. Swiping her sticky hand over her skirt, she scrunched her brows over her eyes to glare viciously at Marshall.

Marshall laughed uproariously. Though he floated nearly a foot off the ground, he was doubled over so much that he was barely taller than Fionna. Marshall folded his arms over his stomach, struggling for breath. He snickered as Fionna firmly pushed Gumball from her back. Gumball reluctantly clambered off, unwinding his legs from around Fionna's waist and his arms from around her neck. Fionna thrust his opened parasol into his hands and, with the scowl still marring her face, began to climb down the ladder.

"What? Is she serious?" Marshall said, grinning.

Gumball uneasily edged closer to the ladder, bending his knees to look down at Fionna. He could see nothing but her white rabbit ears flopping up and down.

"Will you be okay?" Gumball called worriedly. A flash of lightning lit the sky, flooding everything below the tree house in shadow.

"I'm fine!" Fionna snapped just as thunder cracked overhead. Gumball heard the sharp _smack_ of Fionna's slipper soles hitting the deck. The door slammed a moment later. Gumball winced.

"Ignore her, Gumball," Marshall said, waving flippantly. "She's just a baby."

Gumball pressed his finger to his cheek, feeling his face grow warm. "A––a baby?" _However can he insult Fionna when Fionna could pound him into dust any day?_

Marshall lazily draped his arm over the ax-head of his electric guitar and strummed a chord, his fingers sliding over the strings. The sound was light and tinny, almost cheerful.

"How about you and me go to a party?" he said. He closed his eyes, as if Gumball's answer concerned him but little. "Lumpy Space Prince is throwing one in the woods. It's gonna be nasty."

Gumball turned the handle of his parasol around and around. The shade spun slowly above his head, the streamers flowing. He craned his neck to stare down the side of the tree house, as if expecting to see Fionna glaring up at him. Finally he sighed.

"I really shouldn't accompany you, Marshall, but––" Gumball stopped. His eyes widened, and abruptly he tossed his head. "I shouldn't accompany you, and I won't. I have duties to tend, and going to some party with you most certainly will not make my tasks disappear. Now," Gumball said, as he began to unsteadily descend the ladder, "I'll see you some other time."

"No way, man."

Gumball froze as Marshall's deep voice became infinitely deeper and the sound of ripping fabric reached his ears. When he looked at Marshall, he saw with a dull fear that Marshall had morphed into an enormous hulking bat.

"What's wrong?" Marshall said, his voice echoing over the drum of rain. His pointed ears strained forward to listen to Gumball's heavy breathing. "You _are_ coming with me, Gumball. You never have fun, you stick-in-the-mud, but you're going to tonight. "

Gumball clung to the ladder, his expression pinched with thought. He stared distantly at a dent in the ladder's rung, squeezing his hand around the rung with all the force he could muster. His rosy knuckles turned pasty white. Marshall watched stray droplets of rain trail down Gumball's jaw, and wondered if Gumball felt how cold they were.

"Fine." Gumball spoke sharply, almost biting out the word. "Fine, I'll go with you. Only because I know without doubt that you'll pester me all night if I don't. But I have a curfew, and you _will_ bring me directly to my balcony at home the instant the party is over."

"Sure, sure," Marshall said, sounding amused. _Why did I think he'd know these parties are all-nighters?_

Gumball clambered back onto the roof, stiffly gripping his parasol. He tilted his chin haughtily when Marshall offered him his outstretched paw for balance. "I don't need your help," he said.

"I'd like for you to say that again in a minute," Marshall said. In one swoop, he grabbed at Gumball's arm, his claws digging into Gumball's skin through his thin satin sleeves. Gumball, forgetting the danger of the pelting rain, pulled down the shade of his parasol and cracked Marshall's head with the handle.

"There," Gumball said after Marshall yelped. He smoothed out a wrinkle in the shade and quickly raised it above his head. "I told you I don't need your help."

Marshall pinned his ears against his stinging scalp and bared his teeth in a snarl. "You do that again and I swear I'll push you off this tree."

"You haven't the audacity." Gumball gave a benign smile and carefully swung his leg over Marshall's wide back. Throwing his weight over and curling his free hand into Marshall's shaggy fur, he settled himself and found that riding a large vampire bat was similar to riding Lord Monochromicorn.

"Are you ready? 'Cos if you're not, I'm still going." Marshall spread his long wings, managing to hit Gumball's chin, and crouched. Gumball scarcely had enough time to hold his parasol in the crook of his arm and bury his fingers in Marshall's fur before Marshall shot into the air.

Gumball's hoarse shout faded beneath the roaring wind.

* * *

Gumball heard the party before he saw it. Mingled screams and laughter filled the air with hollow echoes, and filled Gumball with apprehension.

Clenching his fists into Marshall's fur, Gumball leaned over to mumble something against Marshall's ear. The ear flickered away from Gumball as Marshall said, "Huh?"

Gumball sighed. "I said, I don't think this is a good idea. Anyone will recognize me here, and honestly, some midnight bash isn't the place for a prince."

"I get it, Your Hiney––I mean, Highness." Marshall smirked and stretched his legs, angling his feet to gently hit the ground. The instant he landed, Gumball scrambled off his back. Marshall stood straight, folding his arms behind him and curving his back. He winced.

"You aren't as light as I thought," he said, his whiskers bristling as a joint in his shoulders cracked. "Fionna carries you around like nothing's to it."

With a final stretch, Marshall reverted to his normal form, morphing so quickly Gumball barely saw the change happen. Marshall grinned and tipped back his head, throwing his inky forelock away from his eyes.

Gumball squinted, making Marshall laugh. "What's up, Dumball?"

" _You_ look like you belong at a nasty party," said Gumball. "I'll stick out like a broken toe."

"Nah. I got it covered, man." Marshall waved Gumball's worry aside. "You have a handkerchief?"

"Y-e-s-s-s." Gumball drew out his reply in confusion, and pressed his hand into his pocket. He withdrew a very pink, lacy handkerchief.

"Whoa, whoa. That thing looks as snotty as your attitude."

"It hasn't been used, Marshall," Gumball said in a hurt tone, missing Marshall's sarcasm.

Unwillingly, Marshall snatched the handkerchief. He crumpled it until wrinkles creased every inch of the expensive silk.

"Ex _cuse_ me," Gumball said, "but what do you think you're doing?"

"I gotta mess it up. Nobody here walks around with a brand new hanky on his head."

"Why should I wear a handkerchief on my head, anyway?"

"'Cos. You're wearing a crown, right? Cover up the crown, and no one will ever know who you are." Triumphantly, Marshall tied the rumpled handkerchief around Gumball's head, looking quite pleased with himself.

"This might be the most stupid idea you've had in some time, Marshall." Gumball pursed his lips uneasily. "Are you certain that––"

"Wait, wait." Marshall critically surveyed Gumball, dissatisfied with the result. "You're still too noticeable."

"What, now?"

Marshall began to unbutton his loose flannel overshirt. He suddenly realized that Gumball had fallen so silent that the quiet clicking of Marshall's fingernails against the plastic buttons sounded like miniature explosions.

"Why are you undressing?" Gumball said curiously.

"It ain't that kind of party, you wad." Marshall wriggled out of his shirt and flung it at Gumball. The sleeveless black shirt Marshall wore beneath the flannel blouse fit him tightly and made him appear even scrawnier.

Gumball hesitantly took the balled-up shirt and shook it out. He held it to his nose, the rough flannel scratching again his cheek. A grimace slowly crept over his face.

"Glob…" he breathed. "Marshall, this smells like… like…"

"Like what?" Marshall said, quirking an eyebrow as if daring Gumball to finish.

"It smells like feet and old crinkly apples and sweat and blo––" Gumball clamped his jaw shut. "Have you ever washed this thing?"

"Naw. Hurry up and put it on. Party's gonna be over before we even get there."

"I still really don't know why I'm doing this," Gumball said, unclasping the button on the front of his oversized collar. He pulled his pink jacket off and struggled his way into Marshall's plaid shirt. It felt strangely cool and soft against his skin. He began buttoning it quickly, aware of Marshall's impatience.

"All right," he said, brushing the wrinkles from the sleeves. "I'm ready to go."

"No one will notice you," Marshall said, floating behind Gumball. With a determined grunt he shoved Gumball, steering him forward. "All we gotta do is have a good time."

"If you so insist," Gumball said uncertainly.

As they neared a clearing in the forest, Gumball saw a group of people in frenzied action. Some danced, while others flopped jerkily about in what Gumball supposed was a dance, but seemed more like a convulsion. He suddenly felt extremely awkward.

"This looks fun," Marshall said, stepping beside him. "Bunches." He glanced at Gumball, then at the party. The uneasy glow in Gumball's eyes bothered him.

"You okay, man?" he said at last.

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Should we greet your friends?" Gumball said, attempting to sound cheerful.

"No way. None of these guys are friends that I have to greet. This isn't a tea party, Gumwad."

Marshall toed himself off the ground and floated lazily toward the group. He grinned when Lumpy Space Prince caught sight of him.

"Hey, lookin' good, there, Marsh." Lumpy Space Prince cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Hey, guys! Marshall Lee is here. He's gonna play us a song. You guys!"

Marshall laughed agreeably and floated to the crude stage as cheers rose from the crowd. "Okay, okay."

In the excitement, no one paid attention to Gumball, but he felt as if every strange clouded eye was fixed on him. He pushed his way through the knot of people, shuddering as bodies bumped into him. He cringed as someone blindly knocked against his side, making him teeter for balance. With his arms outstretched, he surged through the mass of warm bodies, calling for Marshall. An odd sense of panic swelled within him as he realized he could not see Marshall anywhere.

"Marshall. Marshall Lee!"

The soft chords from Marshall's electric ax-guitar somehow split through the buzz of voices. Gumball breathed a sigh and pushed his way to the stage. Just as he closed his fingers over the edge to hoist himself up, something touched the back of his hand. Gumball snapped his head up to see Marshall smirking at him.

"Not very party-hardy, are you?" Marshall said. He took Gumball's hand and tugged him onto the stage. The rough edges of the wood scraped against his knees as he clambered beside Marshall. He stood up and wiped his sweaty palms on his silk slacks, and tried to smile when Marshall slapped his shoulder.

"You're so tight, man. You _got_ to relax." Marshall closed his eyes as if he had found the perfect peace, ignoring the screams and snarls. He leaned back in the air, floating blissfully on his back. He crossed his long legs, laid his guitar across his chest, and began strumming the strings. His fingernails scratched against them quietly.

"Follow my lead," he said.

"I beg pardon?"

Instead of explaining, Marshall threw back his head and hugged his guitar closer, his fingers picking precisely at the strings. Every note that rang free mingled with Marshall's voice as he began to sing.

"Good little prince, always poking at my nerves. You know that I'm bad, but you're spending the night with me. What do you want from my world? You're a  _good_ little boy."

He sneered when Gumball haughtily turned away. Gumball appeared suddenly unaware of the audience, his arms folded and his eyebrows lowered.

"A bad little boy, that's what you're acting like," Gumball said, choosing his words carefully to match the rhythm of the song. "I honestly don't buy that you're that kind of guy. And if you are, why ever would you want to bring me _here?"_

Marshall hissed through his teeth and chuckled when Gumball started. "Nice singing, you wad." He abruptly swung away, floating higher and higher until his lank frame became framed by moonlight. His pallid skin took on an eerie blue glow. He crossed his arms behind his neck, gazing distantly into the black sky. His eyes narrowed, then widened, his slit pupils shining a blood red.

"Don't you know I'm a villain? Every night I'm out killing, sending everyone running like children. I know why you're mad at me. I've got demon eyes, and they're looking right through your anatomy, into your deepest fears. 'Cos, hey, I ain't from here––I'm from the Nightosphere. To me, you're clear. Transparent. You're thinking about me, it's that apparent."

Gumball instinctively stepped back as Marshall slowly floated down, baring his white fangs into Gumball's face. Gumball realized what he had done, and instantly took a wide step forward, pretending he had not been intimidated.

"You're not so bad as you claim," he said, almost challengingly.

Marshall blinked with surprise, but just as quickly changed his expression to that of a smug simper. "'Not so bad'? I'm the son of a demon. I'm the Vampire King. That's not something I have to try at. You, on the other hand…."

Gumball squeezed his arms more tightly against his chest, the insult stinging his conscience. "I––I'm not trying to be bad. I would never condescend to such a level as yours. I only accompanied you tonight because you are my friend."

"Ooh. Your friend? Like… _her?_ " Marshall laughed and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket, soon withdrawing something small and soggy. He touched it to his lips teasingly before digging his fangs into it. Gumball recognized it as a salvaged piece of a cream puff only a second before Marshall carelessly threw it into his face.

"Ugh!" Gumball furiously scrubbed the cream away, his fingers sticking together. He raised his fist, and his hand shook as he struggled to remain calm in spite of such a humiliating gesture. "No. No, not like _her._ Fionna is my special friend, while you are… you….."

"I'm what?" Marshall poked his finger into his mouth, sucking away the frosting. He proceeded to lick away all traces of stickiness while Gumball stood rigid, wishing he were anywhere but on a rickety stage with a saucy vampire.

"Aw, what's wrong?" Marshall said. His long tongue lolled playfully. He hated the way Gumball hugged himself, looking angry and frightened and embarrassed all at once.

"Come on, you dumb wad," Marshall said, his voice rising hopefully. He floated around Gumball, trailing his fingers lightly over Gumball's tense shoulders. "Didn't mean to get you all ruffled. But I knew all along you couldn't handle a tame little party."

"Marshall Lee––"

Marshall reached over, stretching his arms around Gumball's neck. He floated closer, smoothing his fingertips along the soft underside of Gumball's chin, until he found the knot that held the handkerchief on his head. Marshall delicately picked at the knot until it loosened, and once the handkerchief slid down, snatched the small crown from Gumball's head.

Gumball bent down as if to escape from Marshall, and slapped his hands onto his scalp, mashing his upturned bangs over his forehead. His eyes widened, and he swerved around to gape at Marshall.

"My crown," he said weakly. "Give it back."

"What, this old thing?" Marshall curved his lips in a sickeningly innocent smile. He tossed the crown and caught it midair. The tiny blue jewel glinted in the flashing strobe lights. "Why do you want it?"

"Give it _back._ "

"If you say the magic word."

"Give it back or I swear I'll––"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Marshall said in a placating tone. "Calm down, Gumball. I'll give you the stupid crown. Just be quiet."

Gumball thrust his forefinger at Marshall's nose, his face contorted in something between a glare and a snarl. He grit his teeth so tightly his jaw trembled. "You… you will _not,_ under  _any_ circumstances, order me to do something. Now give my crown back this instant."

Reluctantly, Marshall tipped forward and placed the crown on Gumball's flattened palms. Gumball huffily jerked it away and carefully returned it to its rightful place on his head. He then turned back to Marshall, his eyes scrunched into slits of fury.

"You may insult me like a child all you wish," he said, jabbing his finger into Marshall's narrow chest, "but you will _not_ treat my authority flippantly. You may call me foolish pet names if you want, but you will _not_ treat my crown as a plaything."

Gumball spun on his heel, stomping away. He climbed off the stage, and when the cuff of his pants snagged on a splinter, he kicked free. The sound of ripping fabric tore through the air, and all fell silent.

Marshall watched helplessly while Gumball stormed into the dense brush surrounding the clearing. Lumpy Space Prince looked at him. Marshall shrugged, but toed himself up and floated after Gumball. He easily caught up, able to bypass the prickly brush that caught Gumball's clothes and slowed him.

"Hey," Marshall said, rolling onto his stomach and letting his arms dangle. He frowned. "Hey! Come on, where are you going? What's the deal? You're missing the party. PG, you gotta learn to lighten up."

Gumball slapped an overhanging branch away. "Look, I can take jokes, Marshall. But a joke is truly a joke only when everyone joins in the laughter."

"Really? Well. Maybe I should just teach you how to laugh, right now." In one swoop, Marshall dove and grabbed Gumball's crown. He shot into the air before Gumball could react.

"Whoo-hoo!" Marshall laughed. "Unex _pect_ ed!" With that, he sped away, the wind guiding him toward the accumulating dark clouds in the distance.

Gumball's heart tightened with rage. He smacked his hands against his temples and dug his fingers into his scalp, willing himself not to scream. Anger dulled his senses of pain and logic, and he darted through the thick brush, his footsteps crunching over branches and stones. Vines hit his cheeks and made them sting, but he refused to spare the energy to push them aside. He ducked beneath a low branch, unwittingly following Marshall into a place he certainly did not want to visit.

When at last Gumball saw the faint moonlight spear through the bushy treetops, he let himself pant, no longer fearful of being attacked from any hidden corner. He thrashed through the fence of bushes that surrounded the forest edge and burst into the open.

Emptiness surrounded him.

Gumball gazed about. An oppressing wave of fear rose within him, making him lurch onto his tiptoes and totter forward a few steps. He glanced from side to side. The field was bathed in misty silver light. The sound of mournful baying filled the crisp air. Branches cracked and snapped. Owls wailed. Bats jerkily flapped past, their scalloped wings beating. Could one of those bats have been Marshall?

Gumball curled his fingers over his chest, his heart drumming so quickly he felt as if he were suffocating. Sweat prickled his palms and burned.

 _Where's that scoundrel Marshall?_ Gumball squinted, and in the distance saw many tiny stones protruding from the earth like broken teeth. _Gravestones. Oh, no._

Marshall had led him into a graveyard.

Terror made Gumball launch into a clumsy run. He tucked his elbows against his sides and leaped over a rotten log. His footsteps pounded over the packed red ground, and the wind whistled past his ears. He thought little of the moist clay that squished into the ridges of his shoes, or of the dew that soaked his pants' cuffs.

"Marshall!" A horde of bats screeched, startled by Gumball's cry, and exploded as a flapping black cloud into the sky. Gumball staggered into the graveyard, unable to keep his mouth shut. He panted, his breath wheezing and rushing in and out of his chest before he could savor it.

"Ma––Mar––Marsh…."

The scraping of a rubber sneaker sole against concrete made Gumball look up, and, perched on the top of a squat gray tower was Marshall.

Bending over, Marshall leered down at Gumball. The crown sparkled in his hands, which quivered with suppressed excitement. Marshall cackled at Gumball's utterly lost expression.

"Marshall… give back my crown," Gumball said.

"You want your crown?" Marshall said. "Well, then––come and get it."

From his place on the tower, he raised his hand. A flash of lightning brilliantly lit the sky, followed by a deafening crash. Cracks split the ground, from which emerged the groping hands of the undead.

With Gumball's attention focused fully on Marshall, he scarcely noticed the gentle quake that shook the ground beneath his feet. Something cool slid around his ankle.

Gumball yelped and jumped, but the constriction tightened. He looked down at his foot and choked. The shiny white bones of a hand clutched at his leg, squeezing with increasing force.

"Marshall!" Gumball wrenched around and threw all his weight into a kick, his toe meeting the square jaw of the skeleton's skull. The bone cracked under the impact, and the resurrected skeleton fell in a heap, rattling as it went. Bones tumbled over Gumball's feet, and he stumbled back.

Marshall's fangs pressed into his bottom lip as he watched Gumball kick another skeleton into a pile of dried bones. Dust ballooned upward into Gumball's face, and while he fanned it away, an unsteady skeleton wobbled toward him.

"Did you think I was lying?" Marshall said, his voice rising and falling in a rap. "I said I'm evil without even trying. Already dead, so I'm not scared of dying. I'm drinking the red from your heart in one sitting. You think you've got me pegged? You must be kidding. I raise the dead up, and they do my bidding. Hey, I'm a thousand years old. I'm a riddle. I'm a _bad_ little boy, yes, I'm bad, but not little."

Every line made Gumball more angry. He clenched his teeth and hurled his fist forward. Rather than driving the skeleton back with the blow, he merely knocked it askew. Gumball hissed and shook his stinging hand. He certainly possessed little of the fluid grace Fionna had on the battlefield.

"What would Fionna do?" Gumball said, lunging to the side to avoid a charging skeleton. His shoes squeaked over the dirt. "Fionna would… go up and kick Marshall Lee's backside."

A skeleton hurtled at him, and Gumball scrambled out of the way. The skeleton collapsed, its legs buckling and crumbling beneath it. Gumball seized the chance to run. He slowly climbed up the short tower, grabbing the loose stones for support and shoving his toes into the chinks. His fingers slipped and scraped over the rough concrete blocks. With a wince, he tried to divert his attention from how practically every bit of him ached.

At last, he shakily hoisted himself over the edge of the tower's top. His head hung low between his shoulders, his mangled bangs hiding his knit brow. Though he felt indescribably weak, he mustered the effort to swipe his crown from Marshall. Marshall raised the crown high before Gumball could grab it, seemingly enjoying the conflict.

Gumball could tolerate Marshall's stubbornness no longer. In a fit of exasperation, he slapped his hands against Marshall's chest and pushed him away. He never expected Marshall to lose his balance.

For a fleeting second, Marshall curled his fingers into Gumball's shirt, teetering on his heels. Gumball reacted too slowly to keep him upright; Marshall's grip on Gumball's shirt slackened, and he fell.

"Marshall!" Gumball leaned forward and dropped to his hands and knees, peering over the edge of the tower. Marshall lay on the ground below, his eyes screwed shut. He whined in a way that made Gumball's heart stop.

Gumball could say nothing. He stared. Marshall whimpered once, twice, and hissed. He clutched at his stomach, from which protruded the rotten handle of an ancient spear.

"No… no." Not of himself, Gumball swung over the edge of the tower, his palm grating over the bricks. He dropped to the ground, landing awkwardly, but rushed to Marshall's side without pausing to limp.

Marshall groaned through his teeth, drawing his knees up as if to ease his shallow breathing. "Th––this is bad…. PG… this is r––really bad."

Gumball crouched beside Marshall, his hand shaking. He pressed it to Marshall's forehead, pushing away the dirty bangs. Marshall seemed not to acknowledge the touch. He pressed the back of his head against the ground with a groan.

Gumball sank his teeth into his lip, his heart slamming into the inside of his chest. His eyes squinted as he stared down at Marshall. Oddly, time seemed to creep by. He felt as if he had been kneeling there for hours, but he could do nothing but watch Marshall's eyes flicker behind pale closed lids.

The first faint rays of sunlight gleamed through the clouds, pouring gently over Marshall's face. Gumball would have expected the warmth to be soothing over Marshall's gray skin, but the unmistakable scent and sizzle of scorching flesh told him otherwise. Marshall turned away from the light, his fangs clicking against his bottom teeth when he panted.

"Come on," Gumball said desperately. He leaned over Marshall, protecting him from the sun with his own body. His shadow lengthened over Marshall, and along with it came relief. Marshall was silent.

"Come on!" Gumball said again, his voice breaking. "You have to be okay."

Marshall gritted his teeth, wrinkles forming between his brows. "I think… this is it for me, Gumball." His knuckles trembled as he squeezed his stomach, the side of his hand meeting the spear's handle. He licked his dry lips. All of the playfulness had vanished from the way his tongue flopped.

"Just admit it," Marshall whispered. "You––I'm the best friend you've ever had."

Gumball leaned back, his eyes growing large in disbelief and his mouth slackening. "I understand that you constantly taunt me and bait me, and that you think it's funny or whatnot, but you choose to do that now?"

Confusion and rage and hurt and annoyance and despair piled in Gumball's mind. He flung up his hands, wringing them helplessly. For the very first time, his eyes dimmed. "What are you trying to _do_ to me? Do you honestly think I have some sort of attraction to you?"

Unable to stop them now, Gumball allowed the tears to gather. "Well, for whatever time there is left… why… just drop this act, you disgusting _idiot_! You _creep,_ you--"

Marshall sat bolt upright. Gumball's choked outburst terrified him, and his expression betrayed his fear. He held up his hand, demanding Gumball to stop, and tucked his fingers beneath the hem of his shirt.

"I'm faking it, Gumball. Faking it." He quickly lifted up his shirt, and several badly crushed cream puffs slid free, plopping into his lap. Cream stuck to his skin, sparkling in the light. "My shirt is, like, full of cream puffs."

That said, Marshall grasped the spear, tensed, and jerked it from his chest. He carelessly tossed it away, and it rolled innocently over the ground.

Dumbfounded, Gumball let his hands fall to his knees. Words accumulated in his throat, but would not form on his tongue.

Marshall scraped his fingers through his bangs, tugging them away from his face. "Glob, Gumball. You're the realest person I've ever met."

Gumball looked at Marshall, traces of tears still on his lashes. He could not explain what emotions welled in him, but they all itched in his fingers. In one swift move that would have pleased Fionna, Gumball slammed his fist into Marshall's cheek.

The blow snapped Marshall's head to the side, and he gasped in astonishment. _Never_ would he have expected such a reaction from Gumball. Marshall slapped his hand protectively over his flaming red jaw only an instant before the full pain exploded in his skull, sending stars swirling through his vision.

"Augh! My cheek meat!"

Somehow, punching Marshall made the pain lift from Gumball's heart. He could never forget how horrified he had been to think that he could have lost Marshall. 

The sound of hollow laughter came, seemingly from far away, and Gumball realized it was his.


End file.
